


RK800-PC-98

by ladymars



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Video Game World, Case Fic, M/M, Minor Character Death, Police Procedural, stylish anachronistic futuristic pixel art
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-03
Updated: 2019-09-03
Packaged: 2020-10-06 01:57:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20499017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladymars/pseuds/ladymars
Summary: Hank gets transported into the video game world ofRK800, filled with skimpy outfits, soothing city skylines, murder, (and frustrating android detectives).





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Created as part of the Hankcon Reverse Bang! Thanks to [Peannlui](https://twitter.com/durtburd) for the wonderful art that inspired such an off beat and fun piece!
> 
> I'll be posting a chapter a day while I finish the final tweaks of the later chapters. It's been a hot minute since I've written a multichapter fic, so bear with me.

A whole year of sobriety.

To his own surprise, Hank manages not to fuck up this like he fucks up everything else. The new coping mechanisms his therapist taught him works like a charm. Of course, the dark thoughts never fully go away, but he knows how to fight them back now. It’s been a whole year, and he’ll be damned if he doesn’t make it another full year and the rest of his life sober.

His life has improved in surprising ways, outside of his mental and physical health. He’s never crunched the numbers, but now he’s realizing just how much money he spent going to the bar every night and making weekly stops at the liquor store. His bank account feels uncomfortably cushy with the extra cash. Whenever his bank account used to feel uncomfortably cushy, before he got sober, he went and got himself the top rack liquor.

So, he goes and gets himself a hobby instead.

He’s always been kind of good with his hands. As a kid, he would help his dad fix his car. Well, he would hold the flashlight while his dad worked, but he was exposed to it. And the internet is even better now. You can learn just about anything there. 

Between YouTube tutorials and chatting up his usual mechanic, he tunes up his beat-up car and makes it purr like its brand new. Once the car is fully upgraded, short of getting ridiculous by adding spoilers and flames on the side, he starts prowling garage sales and Craigslist for other things to tinker with. His garage starts filling up with wires, tools, and hunks of plastic as he sets up his workshop. He buys and fixes up a beat-up record player, and Giant Steps has never sounded better. He patches up a sewing machine and sells it for a profit. The guys in the precinct call him first when their cars or washing machines are acting up. He even builds a little doghouse for Sumo when he wants to stay outside and rest in the shade when the weather is nice.

On one of his scouts to find things to patch up, he finds a beat-up computer that looks even older than him. It’s boxy and gray, gritty to the touch. Peeking into the disk and the vents reveal more dust inside of it. He doesn’t have a lot of experience with computers, so he figures it would be a good challenge. He talks the owner down to under a hundred and takes it home, figuring he could prove the guy wrong when he said there was no way that beat-up piece a junk would ever turn on. The guy even gave him a box of old disks that he wanted to get rid of. Hank figures he got himself a pretty good deal.

Then he finds out everything about it is in Japanese.

Not a problem. He starts painstakingly looking up what the characters on the disks and the computer meanwhile he’s vacuuming up the ridiculous amount of dust off the machine’s guts. It looks like it’s an office computer that could also be used as a gaming console. He’s excited for a moment, but most of the disks look like old office files. Nothing interesting. There is one disk that looks promising.

_ RK800_. A bit of online searching reveals that it was released in Japan and only in Japan in 1992. It actually takes place in Detroit, which Hank finds endearing. Well, whatever the Japanese developers from the nineties thought Detroit would look like in the future.

It's probably all in Japanese, but he looks up the gameplay and finds it compelling. The artwork is colorful and striking for the era. He gathers that it’s essentially a point and click game; they bring up a pixelated drawing of a cluttered room, and you have to find specific items. It looks like the characters are detectives, the main character being an_ android _detective, dressed up in ridiculously inappropriate costumes trying to solve a murder. Hey, Hank is a cop! He can relate to detective work!

He finds the main character charming too. Connor, the titular RK800. An android cop that you help solve the mystery of Elijah Kamski's death. He’s very gracious for the help as if he couldn’t do it himself, despite supposedly being an advanced robot that should see a gun sitting right there. 

And, okay, he’s a little attractive. Those game devs from the nineties could really do a lot with a couple of pixels. Hank has eyes that work. Don't judge him.

While he thinks this find is a bust, as much as he’s forcing himself to not think of it that way, the flashy art and the story compel him to see if he can figure out how to turn this thing on and poke around at the game. He’s no closer to understanding Japanese, but he figures he can get where this is going from context clues. If the Russian guys on YouTube playing through this game can figure it out, he can too. (He doesn’t know a lick of Russian either but thank God for subtitles.)

It’s another rainy night in Detroit. It’s really pouring out there. Last time it rained like that, the crappy transporter outside somehow got waterlogged and short-circuited, leaving the street without power for a day. He’s in his garage really getting into making this computer work, so it would double suck if the power went out now. It should turn on now if he connected the wires right. Which he did, duh. He knows what he’s doing. He doesn’t usually do things this way, not looking to give himself a good shock, but he connects the computer to an outlet and has his fingers wedged in the narrow space where the disk input used to be to see if he finds a way to make the monitor flicker on.

A powerful roll of thunder makes the house shudder and Sumo let out a howl. Hank winces, but he knows he’s almost got it. If he takes his hand out now, he’ll knock all the wires out of place and then he’ll have to start all over. Gritting his teeth, he wiggles the cable some more and curses under his breath.

There’s a flash of light with the bang of thunder. Then total darkness.


	2. Chapter 1

It’s just a second, but it’s a disorienting second. Hank almost falls over as the light suddenly comes back to him. He’s unsteady on his feet and- wait, he had been sitting down a second ago. And this isn’t his garage.

He looks down a dimly lit, cramped alley. It’s drizzling, but the buildings at his sides keep the rain at a light mist. The alley seems familiar, but there are so many dimly lit, cramped alleys in the city, that he wouldn’t be able to tell which one this is. The disorientation of suddenly manifesting in a completely different place almost made him miss the footsteps approaching behind him. 

“Lieutenant!” 

Shit, he’s too old to be startled like that! He whips around to see who had called for him, almost stumbling over his feet. It isn’t one of his coworkers from the force as he had expected. The younger man with neatly combed hair stares back at him with his dark eyes. Hank recognizes him but he can’t place him. The jacket is throwing him off some, military-style and navy with gold trimmings. It’s just at the tip of his mind where he had seen this man in this jacket. Then he notices the blue light pulsing at his temple.

His chest tightens as the recognizes him. “Connor?”

The man – fucking _Connor _ – stares back at him, the LED giving way to yellow as he silently scrutinizes him. Oh, he’s doing the thing. Y’know, the _ thing_. Scanning a scene to pick up minute details a human wouldn't pick up. The thing! “You’re not the Lieutenant,” Connor finally says as the light swirls back to blue. His posture is tense, guarded. Despite the disorientation, Hank doesn’t miss the clenched fist.

Hank chokes because the response caught him completely off guard. Is he having a stroke? A hallucination? A very, very vivid dream? Maybe he’s dead. That would fucking suck. Now that he’s not actively suicidal? That’s such bullshit. “No, I’m- You see. I’m-” Finally, he just blurts out. “Yes, I am a lieutenant! And you’re Connor!”

Connor’s posture doesn’t relax, but he looks more confused than earlier. That’s progress. He’ll take it. “That is my name, yes.”

Hank helpfully gestures a hand at him as he tried to get his thoughts together. “Yes! Connor! From _RK800_, the video game!”

That throws Connor off enough to ease some. Okay, good. Hank isn’t going to get punched and/or shot by a video game android detective that could kill you in ten different ways before you hit the ground. The LED again turns yellow, the color bouncing off the wall at his side, as Connor’s eyes dart over Hank. He opens his mouth minutely to speak up when there’s a flash and a sizzle on the floor between them.

They both jump back in surprise. It’s not a flash but brightly colored squares flickering with lights for a few seconds before disappearing. Connor is the first to step forward, touching the wet cement where the squares had been a second ago. He looks up at Hank and asks, “Where did you say you knew me from again?”

The tone of voice makes Hank balk, but he thinks he knows where he’s going with this. He answers, sheepish, “From a video game. An old one. It comes in a cassette you can play in this office computer-”

Now the wall fizzles with squares. It lasts longer, with a stark neon pink rectangle lingering for a moment before it all disappears without a trace.

Hank is too startled to speak, and Connor’s LED is a steady red. The android straightens up, now looking at Hank again. “What was the last thing you remember?” he asked. His voice is steady, and Hank recognizes the tone as one he would use when questioning a witness, pressing but not accusatory.

Okay, time to put his detective abilities to work. Oddly enough, mentally working through the logical progression of events calms him some. “I just appeared here. One moment I was at my garage fixing, er, something, and the next I’m-”

He moves to gesture at himself and stops cold as he looks down at himself. He had been so shocked by the sudden change of scenery and the pretense of a living, breathing video game character and the world glitching around them that he doesn’t notice the cool breeze on his chest and the top of his thighs or the tension of his calves at how precariously he’s standing.

First, he sees his chest, which looks smoother than it has been in decades. His stomach is squeezed into a black corset with a vinyl finish. It comes up to his neck in a collar, but it helpfully has an open panel that exposes said freakishly smooth chest. Oh God, he isn’t even wearing real pants. His shiny, black high heeled boots come up to his thigh, emblazoned with golden military stars and purple stripes and hooked up at his hips like chaps. Is he just wearing a black bikini bottom? His gray hair is tied up, and he brings a hand up to feel a metal ponytail holder pulling his hair up in a messy bun, pointed like rabbit ears. There’re too many details to take in. Way too many. They really paid attention to every little detail when they designed this outfit, huh? Hell, even his nails are painted black.

“What the fuck am I wearing?” His voice is thin with disbelief. 

Connor only frowns at him. “That’s the Lieutenant’s Uniform.”

Now it dawns on him. Lieutenant Sakura. Connor’s partner. Only pops in when the player asks for a hint in the game. And whenever the player wants to take a ten-minute personal break. She has her tits almost hanging off the gap on her tight black corset, so she’s quite popular. She’s not even that prominent, but given her uniform, her popularity is not surprising.

He’s wearing _her _uniform.

Hank gapes like a dying fish. “What? I can’t wear this!”

“You can’t exactly change. That’s the Lieutenant’s Uniform. You can’t take it off.”

“The fuck I’m not going to change!” Sure, he knows that according to the game’s story, the Lieutenant’s Uniform is an entity all to itself, but to hell with that. Fuck this! He goes to yank the ponytail holder, but then a dumpster that’s farther down the alley starts twisting into itself with colorful sparks and an electric sizzle. With a start, Hank raises his hands defensively and calls out, “Okay! Okay, I can’t change! Got it loud and clear!”

Connor, for his credit, looks calm at the face of absurdity. Hank can understand that. Connor is supposed to be an advanced robocop in past Japan’s vision of a future Detroit. He’s seen some shit, surely. Finding out that his sexy partner has been replaced by some old guy that claims that they’re in a video game is probably a normal Thursday. The world around them falling apart whenever they stray a little too far into the nitty-gritty is probably new, but he looks like a guy that can roll with the punches.

“Something’s not right,” Connor says, voice even despite the ridiculousness of it all. _No shit, Sherlock_, Hank thinks to himself, but he doesn’t speak up. “Your appearance here must be affecting reality. Making it, well, glitch, to imply at what you were implying. We must find a way to fix this. There must be a way to reverse this.”

“Yeah, probably,” Hank mutters, shivering as he wraps his arms around himself. The uniform isn’t uncomfortable, despite how tight it is, but he is chilly from sitting out in the mist like this. He just feels miserable.

Connor apparently notices, and his expression softens some. “We should return to the station. If you’ve replaced my partner, then perhaps continuing with our duties will lead to more clues as to what made this happen. And how to correct it.”

Hank guesses he doesn’t have any better options. He’s cold. He’s wet. He’s dressed like a cyberpunk stripper. Might as well listen to the video game robot. Why the fuck not? “Lead the way,” he mutters, gesturing a hand down the alley.

Connor nods and steps back to the street, but not before he takes a quick glance at him, up and down. “Hopefully nobody notices the change.”

Hank scoffs as he follows along. “Right, like no one’s gonna notice that the young, sexy eye candy got replaced by an overweight old fuck.”


	3. Chapter 2

Nobody fucking notices that the young, sexy eye candy got replaced by an overweight old fuck.

They walk into the station like it’s nothing. It was a few blocks away, and neither of them spoke on their way over. Thank God. Hank needs a moment to calm down and gather his thoughts. Despite only seeing the station in a single colorful pixelated drawing, he recognizes the place immediately. It’s an open office, with many desks lined in neat rows. It’s muted because of the late night, people coming and going sluggishly. There’re people in uniforms styles similarly to Connor’s, sleek and formal yet brightly colored, along with people in impractical looking clothes that must be civilians, with unnecessary chains and clasps decorating their jackets and unnaturally colored natural hair. Hank notices other Lieutenants, all in similar outfits despite their appearance. Some definitely wear it better than others. Wait, does he also have a bunny tail on the back of the bikini bottom?

It’s a relief to be indoors again. It’s actually not that hard to walk in heels, he finds. Must be the game, because there's no way he could otherwise stand in heels without breaking both ankles. Connor steps up to an empty desk and gives it a tap with his knuckles. “This is your desk.”

Hank notices the lack of personal items and comments, “Your Lieutenant isn’t around much, huh?”

Connor gives a one-shoulder shrug. “I don’t mind it. I do most of the work, and I like working alone.” That explains why she's barely in the game. Connor gestures at the office chair. “Have a seat.”

Again with the detective voice. Hank complies (yes, that’s definitely a rabbit tail he’s sitting on) and makes himself relax. Just trying to start a conversation, he says, “So, what do you usually work on here.”

“Homicide, mostly. Both human and android,” Connor answers, now leaning against the edge of the desk as he was busy swiping through the boxy tablet in his hands. It’s weirdly archaic yet futuristic. Everything looks archaic yet futuristic. “You mentioned you were an actual lieutenant?” 

A smile twitches up. “Yeah, I’m a lieutenant. Back in the real Detroit, actually.” A pen on the desk momentarily turns into a solid black line. Okay, the game doesn’t like implying it’s not real. “My name’s Hank, by the way. I don’t think I mentioned it. Hank Anderson.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Lieutenant Anderson,” Connor says, glancing at him for a moment before turning his attention to whatever he’s reading.

Hank notices that he’s quite focused on that tablet but doesn’t bring it up. “You seem pretty okay with all this going on. You’re not freaking out? Even just a little bit on the inside? No existential crises?”

“I was designed to remain calm under pressure.”

Hank purses his lips. The clipped tone and the divided attention are annoying him. “What the hell’s so interesting there?”

“Oh, my apologies.” Connor turns the tablet so Hank could see. “I was reading a recently closed case.”

“Reading a recently closed case”? Oh, that must be one of those things in the game that broke Hank’s suspension of disbelief as a cop. There were little details that told him this game was not written by someone in law enforcement. Still, the story and the art style were enough to make him forget about slip-ups like that. Plus the hundred bucks he put in buying the console. And watching Connor at the sidebar sitting there being his good looking self.   


Nope, nope, those thoughts were only okay when Connor was just a video game character, not when he’s standing right in front of him!

Ignoring that thought, Hank takes a look at the tablet. It is indeed a case file, styled as if it was printed out on paper despite being displayed on a tablet. The letters are thick and bold as they describe the events. The same familiarity as earlier sinks into him.

His face must be showing how uncomfortable he felt, because Connor asks, “Does this look… familiar to you?”

“Yeah, a bit,” Hank answers, sitting up to have a closer look. Victim: Elijah Kamski. Found dead at his mansion, with evidence of thirium poisoning. One of his house Chloe’s alerted the police when she found him collapsed in his room, clutching a bag of thirium. Ruled a suicide, but why would the creator of androids kill himself in such a way? 

Yup, Hank definitely remembers staring at a wall of kanji that was translated by Russian guys that knew Japanese as a fourth language and English as a third language. He can understand what the report is saying now, at least. Looks like the Russian guys are better at English and Japanese than he gives them credit for.  


“Hey, this is good!” Hank says, sitting up and smiling up at Connor a bit. Connor frowns, and Hank waves a hand at him. “No, not good like  _ that _ . I’m not glad someone’s dead, obviously. I know this case! From… y’know.”

Connor sits up straighter, at attention. “So, you know what happened in this case?”

Pursing his lips, Hank sags some and waves a hand. “Vaguely. I’ve never actually played. I don’t know Japanese either.”

Connor tilts his head to the side as if he doesn’t understand. “But we are speaking Japanese.”

Nope, not opening that can of worms. Hank moves on. “Anyway, if we  _ solved this case _ ,” he emphasized that part tellingly, “then maybe things will go to normal. Right?”

Connor’s LED swirls yellow for a moment before he nods once. “The case is closed already, but it’s a direction to something. Might as well follow it. We should go to Kamski’s house to find any leads before they go cold.” Then he just hops off the counter and stalks off as if expecting Hank to follow.

Hank skids like a baby deer for a moment before he gallops over in his high heels. “Wait, we’re going now?” he exclaims. “It’s… I don’t know how late it is, but it’s late!” This isn’t how cases work!

Connor doesn’t slow his determined pace. “His house is still inhabited by his androids while his will is sorted out, and we do not need sleep. Someone will be available to speak to us.”

Hank groans, but he fixes a wedgie that had formed in his bikini bottom while he was sitting and trots after Connor.


End file.
